Healing Our Trauma

“He himself bore our sins in his body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; ‘by his wounds you have been healed.’” —1 Peter 2:24 (NIV)

If you’ve ever had—or known someone who’s had—heart surgery, you’ve witnessed a paradox: healing that begins with trauma. The chest is opened, the heart repaired, and then the long, careful process of recovery begins. It’s a journey that requires trust—trust in the surgeon’s hands, in the body’s capacity to heal, and in the hope that life on the other side will be stronger, freer.

Today’s scripture speaks of a deeper kind of healing—one no human body can accomplish on its own. It’s not physical but spiritual. Writing to a suffering church, Peter echoes Isaiah’s vision: “By his wounds you have been healed.” 

That ancient prophecy spoke of a suffering servant who would bear the sins of many, offering healing through his own affliction. Peter now sees that promise fulfilled in Christ.

It’s a paradox at the heart of our faith: that someone else’s wounds become the source of our healing. Christ endured suffering not for his own brokenness, but for ours—and through that suffering, we are restored. 

Jesus bore our sins in his body on the cross—not just as a symbolic act, but as a redemptive, restorative one. He took on the full weight of our brokenness so that we might be made whole.

This healing isn’t just about forgiveness; it’s about transformation. We are invited to die to sin and live for righteousness—to receive a new heart, as it were, one no longer hardened or diseased by guilt, fear, or shame. 

As Paul writes in Romans 6:4, “We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that… we too may live a new life.”

The promise is this: through Christ’s wounds, we are not merely patched up—we are made new. Just as physical healing often begins with trauma and vulnerability, so too does spiritual healing begin with the trauma Christ endured for us. And in that mystery, we find hope: that Christ not only suffered, but now heals our trauma—our grief, our guilt, our fear. His scars are not signs of defeat but of divine restoration. And in them, we find our wholeness—stronger, freer, and more alive than before.

Great Physician, we thank you for the healing that only you can give. Through your wounds, we are restored—not just forgiven but transformed. Give us grace to trust your work in us, even when it begins with brokenness. Help us live into the righteousness you’ve made possible, with hearts made new by your love. Amen.

Peace & Grace,

Pastor Tim